


Diplomatic

by aliencereal



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Insecurity, Multiple Orgasms, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:32:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliencereal/pseuds/aliencereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carver makes for good backup when you really don't want to attend meetings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diplomatic

One of the most entertaining things about Amaranthine is watching the Warden-Commander try to get out of meetings with the local lords and ladies. This is the general consensus amongst all the Wardens and the more sociable soldiers at the Keep. A few of Natia Brosca's various tactics are legendary. She once faked a concussion, twice invented a dwarven holiday, and regularly crafts pretend missions to get her out of the Keep entirely for days at a time. Most of the people under her command think it's a general distaste for boring political meetings, which isn't exactly uncommon amongst warriors.

Carver, of course, knows better. At one point, sprawled out next to him post-coitally, she'd gone on an entire rant about why she hates those meetings. Only one of the reasons was how boring they are. Others included:

“Carver, I swear to the Stone, the only time I want to be the only dwarf in the room is when you're fucking me.”

“I don't know what those blighted fools want me to do about their land disputes, what do they think I know about farmland? I was a mercenary!”

“They keep handing me papers. They _do_ know I can't read, right?”

The most important reason, though, had been whispered to him the next morning just before they pulled their armor on.

“They make me feel so stupid, Carver. The gathering hall is the only place I still feel useless.”

So Carver doesn't laugh when Natia tries some ridiculous scheme, and has snapped at Alistair more than once for going along with the jokes. At the very least, he aggressively sides with her when she complains, and it isn't forced in the least. They're of one mind in their opinion of the rich and affluent; it is not a positive one.

At his best, though? He bails her out of her meetings.

“Warden-Commander? I have an urgent message,” He announces, putting on his best 'concerned but trying to hide it' face and fidgeting purposefully with his sword. He figured out how to best do that by watching Alistair talk to... anyone, really.

Natia looks up from the map she'd been glaring at, examining her lover in the doorway for a moment before repressing a smile. Even in battle, Carver always calls her by her name. It's kind of a big deal; it's an equality thing. If he's calling her by her title? He's bluffing in some fashion. It's their little secret.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, I must attend to this,” Natia says to her guests, who are dressed in wealthy purples and golds. There's a touch too much sugar in her tone to be sincere, and Carver resists the desire to laugh. She hurries out of the room like there's a purpose behind it, and smiles conspiratorially at Carver once she's at an angle where only he can see it.

Once they're down the hall, she looks up at him with a delighted expression.

“So, what's your 'urgent message', hearth of my heart?” She asks. Carver gives her a little half-smile in return.

“It's 'skip your blighted meeting so I can ravage you instead',” He tells her, and is rewarded with a bark of laughter and a slap on the ass.

“Well, I don't know about the original sender, but I wouldn't mind spreading my legs for the messenger,” She says with a wink, and Carver's half-smile turns into a full one.

*

Natia's hatred of meetings might be the others' favorite thing about the Keep, but Carver's favorite thing is Natia's _bedroom_. Prior to their first night together, he'd never slept in a bed this big or this comfortable. He's also had more sex in this bed than everywhere else combined, which is a big plus.

It's certainly taught him what she likes.

Natia is underneath him, his fingers circling around the nub of nerves between her legs. She's slick and hot from the attention. Carver is hard and starting to ache from it, but it's worth it to make her come before he pushes in. She doesn't ask for it, but he's heard her and Sigrun talk about lovers from Dust Town, mostly unconcerned with the woman's pleasure. He _never_ wants to give her reason to laugh about _him_ like that, even though he trusts her not to. There's always that gnawing insecurity.

It's not like he gets nothing out of it, anyway.

Natia's breath rasps over heavy, guttural moans. The height difference means her face is pressed into his sternum when another lover would hide themselves in his neck, and there's something satisfying about pleasing a woman and holding her close to your chest at the same time. She's literally writhing against his hand, clawing at his back and brokenly begging for his cock whenever she has the air in her lungs for it.

He doesn't give it to her until her back bows and her toes curl, the first spasm of her orgasm shuddering up through her stomach. Without hesitation, he slams into her. The waves of pleasure come just a little bit too fast for him to thrust in time with them, but from the way she's sobbing and pushing up for more, he doesn't have anything to worry about.

The squeeze of her inner muscles, out of time with the beat of his hips, feel amazing against his cock. With one hand, he reaches down to grab her hip to help hold onto the rhythm, grunting with exertion and pleasure with each stroke. Even once her orgasm is over, she keeps making needy noises, her legs bent at the knee so she can get leverage to help him.

Carver gasps and stutters in his rhythm when she uses her height to her advantage and sucks hard on one of his nipples. The little jolt of pleasure it sends through his stomach makes him shiver, and then he growls. Natia digs her nails into his back so hard it probably breaks the skin when he does, so he growls again, not holding anything back.

“Fuck _yeah_ , Carver,” She breathes, sounding awestruck. He nearly comes right then, but instead, he grits his teeth and changes his tactics, adding a little grind at the end of every in-stroke. It pushes his pelvic bone purposefully against her clitoris, and after a few thrusts, Natia shouts and the wonderful rippling of her insides starts all over again.

Carver comes so hard it makes him light-headed. He isn't quite sure what happens for the next few minutes, but when he comes to, Natia is lying on her side with her arms and head resting on his chest. The angle lets him see her in her entire sweaty, lovebitten glory, and he takes a moment to just admire the curves of her breasts, her waist, her hips. He sighs happily and tucks a damp lock of hair behind her ear.

“Hi there, gorgeous,” He mumbles, leaving his hand in Natia's hair. She _blushes_ , her eyes going soft and her smile shifting into something gentle.

“Atrast vala, love,” She tells him, so much fondness in her tone that it melts Carver's heart a little. She kisses him, first quick and then slow and indulgent. After a moment, she pulls back, looking thoughtful.

“By the ancestors, what are we going to tell the blighted _diplomats_?” She groans, and Carver's lips quirk up into a smirk.

“Domestic Crisis.”

“Fuck it, that'll work.”


End file.
